


Falling and Letting Go

by Aleaiactaest



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Action, Body Modification, Dubious Consent, F/M, Genderswap, Plot What Plot, Romance, Sticky Sex, Violence, gender does not work this way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:59:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleaiactaest/pseuds/Aleaiactaest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Optimus Prime is not terribly amused to be turned into a woman, but what does Sentinel expect to gain by this move? (Takes place sometime after the end of Animated Season Three and also after "The Stunti-Con Job".)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling and Letting Go

Before his face could hit Cybertron's metal ground, a pair of blue arms caught him, strong, snug, and secure. He could feel himself crumbling and wanted to warn whoever it was not to touch him, but the words were dust without sound. That little warning too much for him to manage, Optimus Prime blacked out.

* * *

 

An overhead hospital light wobbled into view. Optimus expected to hear Ratchet chewing her out any moment. Her? Optimus Prime blinked and frowned, looking down at her long, slender, pointed fingers. Those fingers had certainly never done a day of work in her life, no tough jobs like chopping rocks on lonely asteroids, no grim tasks like fighting Decepticons. She flexed them, testingly, and thought that maybe they would be strong enough for it all, despite their looks. The grip strength seemed good, maybe even better than she had possessed before. Hazily, she gathered her words and asked the obvious question to one of the more colourful blobs standing off to the side, "Why am I female?"

The blue blob sounded like Sentinel. It probably was, hedging in his greasy tones, "Optimus, old pal! AllSpark, but I'm glad to hear you're awake. You were out for quite a while, you know, and you're a _lady_ , not a _female_."

Optimus checked her chronometer and boggled at what popped up on her HUD. Two weeks? Gone, just like that? Could have been worse, she supposed. Last thing she remembered, she had been falling to pieces. Optimus said lowly, "Yeah. I know. Sentinel, why am I female?"

"That's Sentinel Magnus," he corrected, "and your old body wasn't good for much of anything after Oil Slick hit you with that Viridian, not even a museum piece. You needed a shell transplant right away, or you'd have gone the way of the Wreckers: dead."

Optimus Prime rubbed her head, feeling a migraine coming on, and shut off her optical sensors. She made it a demand this time. "Sentinel." He was not getting the 'Magnus' until he answered her slagging question. " _Why am I female?_ "

"Because that was the closest shell to your old one that passed security checks," Sentinel finally answered, which did not answer much at all.

Optimus turned her optics back on, and the world snapped into focus, a sharper focus than she had ever seen, with clearer details and more subtle gradations of colour. Was that even a bit of infrared and ultraviolet she was picking up now? She thought so. Optimus levelled a look at Sentinel and then paused at what she saw. For one thing, his stupid Magnus hat was gone, which vastly improved his appearance, she felt, but he had clearly been patched all over. Wheeljack was working on tidying up his paintjob to cover those bare patches, but Sentinel still gave the impression that he had gone ten rounds with a jar of acid.

At her steady stare, Sentinel supplied a few more details, explaining, "After that Toxitron fiasco, we had to pull your old shell type off the market. Too many exploitable security loopholes in it. Turns out, Toxitron's not even the only Decepticon protoformed in that mould - there's at least another two, just between me and you. The body shell you're wearing now is new - seems like an awful lot of fem-bots wanted to ape your look without giving up their shape." Sentinel scowled. "Eh, what do they know? Anyway, so it has all the latest security patches, no loopholes, and Wheeljack and Perceptor got one up to MilSpec just as fast as they could. Your spark was... fading rather fast, without a compatible body."

"Do you like it?" Wheeljack asked, looking up from airbrushing over what must have once been a gaping gash in Sentinel's shin. "I took the liberty of widening your visual spectrum, and you'll have more low end torque, too, zero to sixty in -"

"If you start expounding upon your modifications now, I calculate that you will finish in 1.27 cycles," Perceptor broke in coldly. He stood back against the wall, arms crossed. He looked severe and distinctly unhappy, though maybe she was just projecting her own feelings on him. She knew that he had deleted his emotional protocols. "I would suggest that Optimus Prime is perfectly capable of accessing the help files for her new configuration."

"It.... works," Optimus said circumspectly, not wanting to let Wheeljack down too much. MilSpec? She had been CivSpec her whole life! Optimus reached down and tapped one of those shapely, contoured thighs, listening to the solid, heavy _thunk_ of the reinforced armour, and she wondered how this body would have held up against Megatron. "But uhm, where's Ratchet?" Where was Bumblebee, for that matter? Bulkhead, at least, she knew was at an energon farm with Sari.

"You're a hero...ine," Sentinel chided. "Nothing but the very best treatment for you! Besides, Minerva's busy chewing off Ratchet's audio sensor about some dumb medical thing." Sentinel rolled his optics and sighed theatrically.

Perceptor glared, and Wheeljack looked away, rubbing the back of his helmet. The engineer suggested, "You know, Sentinel... Magnus, I think you're done here. Just need to put the Prime through a few calibration tests and -"

"But there's a recovery dinner celebration planned. She can't be late for that!" Sentinel insisted and waved dismissively. "You can do your tests tomorrow."

Perceptor's glare turned weaponised, but Wheeljack gave a little ground, cautioning, "Nothing too strenuous."

Optimus frowned. She wanted to protest that Ratchet was a great medic, that she was not even sure she wanted to go to another ridiculous state dinner, that maybe she ought to stick around for the calibrations; that she still was not sure about this whole 'sudden involuntary sex change' deal. Then Sentinel clamped his hand on her arm and tried to help her up off the table. His touch felt nice, actually, nicer than she was expecting, and she leaned into it, letting him drag her to her feet. Optimus found herself wobbly, feeling like she was perched on the tips of her feet, and she leaned against Sentinel heavily. Looking down at her traitorous feet, Optimus exclaimed, "High heels?"

"Tironium. It's a new ultra-light alloy. Holds an edge real well. Between that and the built-in laser scalpels, you'll be able to tear out a bot's throat with one swipe," Wheeljack crowed.

"My balance is all off. I don't know if I can walk like this," Optimus complained, frowning some more down at her feet. The heels unpleasantly reminded her of Stiletto, a human villainess she had apprehended in Detroit. "I'm top-heavy, too." Her shoulders were not as broad as she was used to them being, her hips were wider, and yet, she still managed to be top-heavy somehow.

"Needed to include room for your Matrix," Wheeljack supplied helpfully.

"I won't let you fall," Sentinel assured, tugging on her arm.

Optimus Prime sighed. That was just like Sentinel, trying to drag her off into some sort of trouble or other, but that was the _old_ Sentinel, the one who had been her friend, not the one who wanted nothing to do with her. Encouraging him a little to be friendly might do some good. She went.

* * *

  
Sentinel sat her down next to him, fussing over her a bit. He asked, for what had to be the third time, "Are you sure you're fine?"

"I'm fine. Really," Optimus insisted. Getting off her feet was a relief. She did not think she could have made it down the hallway without Sentinel to lean on, which was frankly embarrassing. "A little hungry." Some energon to drink would be a good excuse to avoid having to make small talk with dignitaries who all wanted a piece of her for vested interests of their own or press who just wanted a soundbyte to boost their ratings.

There was one reporter already poised to strike, however, who sidled up with a syrupy sweet smile and asked, "And how do you feel about your recent brush with death?"

Optimus Prime pursed her lips, which she had seen were painted a fire engine red to match the bulk of her cab, and thought unpleasant things about the interrogative Autobot. She had _died_ , and she had no respite after that, nothing but nonstop misadventures. So she had almost died now. She had been through worse, which bots cared about less. Optimus still had not entirely mentally processed that last injury or her current state. She settled on, "I just hope someone got the civilians out of the way."

"Oh, don't worry about that. We contained your Viridian infection right away," Sentinel offered, laying a comforting hand on her forearm. He was still being bizarrely pleasant, and Optimus felt like she was waiting for the other boot to drop.

"No one else was hurt?" Optimus Prime asked, turning to look at him closely and examine him for squirming. If he was covering up that someone had been hurt for her sake, there was going to be a reckoning.

"I mean, not _badly_ ," Sentinel demurred, lifting up his cube of energon. He took a swig and smiled over at one of the press. "Let's have a toast to your health."

Cubes went up all around the room. Optimus Prime made herself swallow down a gulp of her energon. It was lovely and dark with a hint of bitterness, layered with toasty notes. Ever since becoming Cybertron's talk of the town, she had been drinking a blasted sight better than Optimus Prime, spacebridge maintenance technician, but this energon was a cut above even that. She just wished she could stop her fuel tank from turning over.

Before she could press Sentinel, a different reporter asked, "What do you think of the Magnus's part in the action?"

"I can't say I think much of it. I didn't even see him," Optimus Prime answered crossly, taking another swig of her energon. AllSpark, but it was good! Did Wheeljack tweak her taste receptors, too? She swore she could sort out the individual hydrocarbon molecules as they hit her tongue.

The reporter looked gobsmacked and backed away, conferring with his camera-bot. Sentinel did not even flinch, more surprisingly. Optimus Prime had the sinking feeling there was some joke here that everyone in the room was in on but her. Frustrated, she demanded, "What's the big idea?"

Councillor Botanica gave her a sympathetic look and leaned over to whisper in her audio, "Just what _do_ you remember?"

"I was hit with Viridian, I reached for my axe, and it... it went black," Optimus Prime whispered back to her, feeling about ready to give her new body a full combat test all over Sentinel's skidplate.

"Ah," Botanica replied, her voice at once understanding and pitying. "The... Magnus carried you to safety. They just declared him clean of Viridian today."

Optimus Prime sunk back down in her seat and finished her drink, before pointing at the empty cube and asking, "Could I get another one of these? Thanks." There was a word for times like these: mortifying. She shot Sentinel an uncomprehending look. He had gotten himself worse than dirty - infected - for her sake? When a good chunk of the populace would have just as soon have seen him lynched and replaced with her? Then he had kept himself from bragging about it to her long enough to make her look like an _idiot_ in public?

Sentinel was devious. He deserved a good thumping. Sentinel had saved her life. The course of action there was less clear.

"Do you like the energon? It's from a Kimian distillery," Sentinel asked solicitously, too innocent. "Very rare and potent."

Optimus Prime stated flatly, "You saved my life," and added silently, _and you didn't even bother to tell me, thanks a lot._

Now one of the reporters harried Sentinel, asking, "As Magnus, how can you justify ordering medical staff off yourself to tend to another Autobot, no matter how beloved by the public?"

Sentinel shrugged and brushed the question off, saying smoothly, "Optimus needed the help more than I did. So it took me a little longer to recover - Optimus lived. I think any Autobot worth his energon would call that a fair trade! Besides, if I hadn't gotten in there with my Skyboom Shield to contain the infection, that Viridian would have spread, and we'd have had utter pandemonium. As Magnus, I'm expected to maintain order."

Optimus ducked her head as the flashes started to go off. They hurt her new too-sensitive optics, so she tried to keep her face down and buried in her energon cube. Her fuel tank had not settled any, though it turned over for different reasons now.

Sentinel guided her out onto the dance floor later, holding her close to keep her from toppling. Maybe it was the energon, maybe it was those cutting-edge tactile sensors her body boasted, but his arms felt awfully good around her. Sentinel even managed to make her look graceful, despite how many times she stepped on his feet. He, still a little shorter than she was, gazed up at her as they danced, giving her a good impression of adoration that she did not dare believe. Bumblebee was still going to give her the Pit over this whole mess later, but falling on her face was one thing Bumblebee could not jibe her about, at least.

Then he offered to walk her back, since she was in no shape for driving. Optimus confided to him, leaning hard against his shoulder, "I didn't even have that many. I know it was high grade, but..."

Sentinel's grin was slag-eating as he explained, "Oh, yeah. That body shell? Real energy efficient. You're going to get tanked pretty easily, but you can go for _hics_ if you know what I mean."

"Oh, _fun_ ," Optimus grumbled. "Anything else you haven't told me?"

"Lots of things!" Sentinel said cheerily. "Why don't we step in here a moment? We can have a talk, just us. When's the last time we did that, anyway?"

He opened up an absolutely lovely antechamber, so tastefully decorated that she had to ask, "Wha... what is this, anyway?"

"My quarters," Sentinel said simply. He settled her down on a plinth and sat down next to her, not quite touching but very, very near.

Optimus wanted him nearer and rested her side against his. She struggled to try to put her thoughts together. Optimus started with, "You've decided to play nice."

"We used to be friends," Sentinel said absently, shrugging. He reached for her hand, and she let him have it. The apparent delicacy of her fingers seemed to fascinate him, since he played with them. She wondered if she could break his fingers if he became too annoying. The thought was tempting. "We were good together. Real good. Don't you want us to be good again?"

Optimus Prime leaned back, her mind still a muddled maelstrom. Lips pressed into a thin, hard line, she pointed out, "If you really wanted to be _friends_ again, you shouldn't have set me up like that."

Sentinel snorted and patted her on the back with his other hand, asking sweetly, "So you wanted me to regale you with how I cradled your body as it turned to dust?"

"I didn't -" - _want to hear you bragging_ \- "I mean, I'm grateful that you saved my life. Thank you. But you should have told me upfront." Optimus Prime shifted uncomfortably. How should she phrase the rest of it? "And... Sentinel, you made it look like I'm your.... girlfriend. Or something."

"What?" Sentinel protested, and his hand slipped down her back. "Not that you aren't a sexy mothertrucker, but..."

Optimus fixed a level stare on Sentinel and said, "I showed up on your arm - because I can't _balance_ in these heels, you fussed over me the whole time, you took me _dancing_ -"

"It takes two to tango," Sentinel said mildly, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. "You enjoyed it."

"- and you walked off with me at the end. So what if I did enjoy it?" She jutted out her chin and snatched her hand back, crossing her arms across her chest defiantly. She found she could not tuck her arms in as much as she was expecting - stupid female chest contours. At least the Matrix, all that was left of the AllSpark, had a solid armour housing to protect it now.

"So I think there's a lot more we could enjoy together," Sentinel suggested, smirking openly. He leaned in closer.

Alarmed, Optimus Prime flipped him to the floor and promptly felt a small pang of remorse. She had not really meant to flip him like that. He had at least been trying, in his awkward, messed-up way, to reconcile, and now he was going be sulky and insufferable.

Sentinel surprised her again, hooking her knee with his foot and dragging her off the plinth. She tumbled almost on top of him, but he slid out from under her, rolled into a crouch, and promptly offered her a hand. Optimus Prime looked at him warily and got up on her own, which the heels did not make easy. She commented, offhandedly, "You've gotten better at hand to hand. I've been fighting Decepticons. What's your excuse?"

Sentinel scowled and waved a hand dismissively, "Oh, you know. A Magnus is _expected_ to be a master of... about every martial art. Dai Atlas says I'll never be a cyber-ninja - says I don't have the focus, can you believe that?" Optimus could. "But Krav Mecha's working out pretty well for me." Winning by any means? Yes, Optimus could see that suiting Sentinel. Was that art not one of Repugnus's specialties, in fact?

"That's all that's gotten into you?" Optimus inquired, squinting at Sentinel. There was a time when she knew every panel and every seam in Sentinel Prime. They were worlds apart now, but something about how he carried himself seemed different. It was not just that he was missing his stupid hat, which had apparently been completely destroyed by Viridian. She pulled him closer and pried at one of the arrow-marked panels on his arms, popping it open out of curiosity.

Sentinel pulled back, optics wide, and he demanded defensively, "Hey, don't look at that!"

Optimus tilted her head to the side, ignoring Sentinel's bluster, and observed, "Your load servos are new."

"I, yeah, uh..." Sentinel rubbed the back of his helmet and looked away. "That's another Magnus thing. Ultra Magnus was loaded for bear with experimental weaponry, and the bots at the Kimia Facility don't seem too inclined to let me get off easy." He frowned, flicked out his shield, fiddled with it, and flipped it into an odd butterfly configuration. "I don't even know what this _does_. Skyfall's a glitch-head about not including any help files when he's using me as a testbed."

"Sentinel!" Optimus Prime exclaimed. She gaped openly, a little horrified by how cavalier Sentinel was about not even understanding his own body. Then she gave him a good thwack under the chin, rounding on him, "Mods can go to your head if you're not careful!"

"Ow, hey! - says you when you're _hitting me_ ," Sentinel snapped back, glaring indignantly.

Optimus looked down at her own hand and winced. Was that why she had been feeling so aggressive, since she had woken up in her new body? All those MilSpec mods going to her head? She shook her head, narrowed her optics, and insisted, "The Magnus is the last bot who needs untested mods messing with his mind!"

"And what?" Sentinel said absently, not looking at her or anything. "The Magnus ought to ask his Autobots to undertake risks that he himself won't? _You_ of all bots, are going to tell _me_ that?"

Optimus opened and shut her mouth and then sighed. She was not sure what was worse: Sentinel being bull-headed and obtuse and _wrong_ , or Sentinel using reasonability like a stabbing dagger. He really was more dangerous when he was being reasonable. Sentinel did have a charisma about him, when he was not tripping himself by putting his foot in his mouth. She had believed in him, a long, long time ago, so she knew how easy it was to fall in line with his dreams and schemes. Optimus reached out and ran her index finger along the length of his jawline, and she murmured tiredly, "Just don't let the changes change who you are."

"If you're so concerned about these mods, perhaps we ought to explore each other, very, very thoroughly," Sentinel suggested, leering openly.

Optimus blinked and blurted, "Sentinel, are you seriously hitting on me?" She did not object to the concept, not really. Sentinel was a handsome Autobot. He had always been. She was just surprised that he actually wanted _her_ and not just the illusion of a trophy girlfriend.

Sentinel threw up a hand and hedged, "I would never suggest anything inappropriate -"

Optimus advanced on him, moving her hand down to one of those broad, powerful shoulders, and she growled hungrily, "But I want you to suggest something inappropriate." She had saved Sentinel and left Elita-1 to die. She lied to Ultra Magnus, letting the leader of the Commonwealth think that the fault for the Archa Seven disaster lay solely on her shoulders. She saved Sentinel again from the Headmaster and lied to Ultra Magnus again, covering for Sentinel to make him look good. She spacebridged across the galaxy to save Sentinel once more when those Decepticon prisoners broke out of containment on his ship. When a transwarp explosion took Blackarachnia, Sentinel was the one she saved. All these things and more, Optimus Prime had done for Sentinel, and he barely even noticed her at best and resented her at the worst. What did she need to do, walk up to him and shout, 'Do me, you idiot?' Maybe Optimus did; Sentinel was dense as rheanimum-enhanced armour.

Sentinel looked a little alarmed by her boldness but offered, voice faint, "I could, ah, give you a parade polish and detailing? Wheeljack did a sharp job with that paintjob, but he didn't really put on any shine, and -"

"And then?" Optimus prompted. Sentinel was a horrible tease sometimes. Optimus and Elita-1 had always let Sentinel do their shining, when they were cadets, because he was amazingly good at it, never missing a spot, but the little jerk always let his hands wander. Optimus had tortured memories of standing in Parade Rest, which was not at all restful, all hot and bothered from Sentinel's touches, with absolutely no relief at all.

"We could, uh, make out a bit? If you wanted?" Sentinel continued, taking a few steps back.

"I want," Optimus said firmly, advancing on Sentinel again. She grabbed him by the hips and pressed him against the wall, stealing one of those kisses he should have given her any of the many times she had hauled him out of the fire. If the mods were making Optimus more aggressive, she did not mind now. She broke the kiss after a moment and prompted while Sentinel was still dazed, "And then?"

Sentinel sputtered, some too-late realisation finally dawning in his thick head, "Wait, you want to sleep with me? I, ah..."

"You know, Sentinel," Optimus Prime said, smirking, "you didn't need to go to all these underhanded lengths to make the press think I'm with you. You could have just asked me on a date."

Sentinel looked away, rubbing his hand nervously behind his antennae, and he muttered, almost too softly to be heard, "I'm not Elita-1."

"What?" Optimus asked, frustrated and baffled. "I just... what?" Why did Sentinel have to be so infuriatingly difficult?

"I know we used to make out, but I'm not her. She's gone," Sentinel muttered, shifting a bit in her arms. He felt so tense, even more than his natural high-strung nature would cause.

"I could argue that, but not now," Optimus sighed, pressing her body against him and pinning him. Was that why Sentinel was worried? He thought Optimus had only been interested in Sentinel because Elita-1 was? Sentinel did have that insecure streak, under all his bravado. Optimus reassured him, "I loved her, but it wasn't just about her. I would have been interested in you even if she'd never been there."

"Really?" Sentinel asked, his antennae perking up in the most adorable way. He relaxed, just a fraction. Then, Sentinel static-coughed and blustered, "Oh, of course you were! I'm very desirable, after all."

"Mmm. Yeah. That," Optimus snorted, trying to keep a straight face. When she failed, she kissed Sentinel again to cover her slip. "You... really had no idea I wanted you, did you?"

"It was obvious!" Sentinel lied. "I, uhm, just didn't think it would be... appropriate?"

"Oh yeah. You're never inappropriate," Optimus deadpanned, nipping along his jawline. "About that polish?"

"Right this way, my lady," Sentinel offered, putting one hand on her hip and the other hand on her lower arm. He did a decent job of faking gallantry, when he put his mind to it, and he led her to his quarters' wash rack. The gleaming cleaning equipment was a far cry from the primitive car washes of Earth; she had never seen anything so luxurious. She sighed contentedly and nibbled on Sentinel's antennae a bit. He observed wryly, "You weren't this anxious to have me wash you down back on Earth."

Optimus Prime took a moment to think, optics dimming. Was it just the mods and the fine energon speaking, or was this what she really wanted? She was certain that her tactile sensors could pick out even the fine grooves on the smoothly polished mirror of a deep space telescope. Everything felt so intense and exciting. Her optics brightened, and Optimus insisted, "That was different. That was in public, and you were so..." her face screwed into a sour expression as she struggled with how to phrase her complaint in a fashion that would not be immediately ignored, "impersonal about it."

"I can make it personal!" Sentinel insisted, apparently oblivious to how his words sounded. Optimus Prime settled herself down on a wash bench, wanting to at least start in robot mode. Sentinel Prime cautiously settled himself down over her, kneeling with one leg on either side. He was not quite touching her, and she bit her lip, finding it hard not to just tug him down on her lap. There was not much dirt and grime to scrub off her now. She could have really used him after some of the back-breaking work she used to do, repairing spacebridges, when she had felt there was more grease on her armour than paint. Of course, Sentinel had been nowhere to be found when she was only lowly Maintenance Prime.

His hands were ghostly light over her, gentle and almost hesitant, as he made sure she was absolutely clean. The touches almost tickled, teasing. Cleaning took too long and not long enough all in one. Then he polished her, taking out the swirls that factory washing had left on her armour. The polishing pads were fine enough, but his fingers were what she really craved. Then Sentinel dipped into the wax, a rich vintage from one of the colony worlds most known for its fine hydrocarbon products. The wax glided over her body, absolutely everywhere. She watched the wax smooth under the pressure of his fingers and shivered. Sentinel murmured, teasing as his touches, "Just can't keep still, huh?"

Optimus Prime stiffened and smiled, remembering fondly how hard it had been to keep still back when he used to shine her and Elita-1. Those were the days, but perhaps the days were looking up again. He nudged her to transform, and he hit all the spots that her robot mode concealed. Sentinel even went under her hood, tweaking her headers and pistons. Keeping her engine from revving was the hardest thing of all, but snapping off those cunning fingers of his would not do at all. Optimus had plans for Sentinel's fingers.

Then he asked her to transform again and used those fingers to grab her up in his arms. Optimus shot him a mildly confused and questioning look, and Sentinel insisted, as if it was obvious, "I'm not going to let you get _dirty_ by walking on the floor!"

Optimus Prime rubbed one of her temples and observed mildly, "You're going to have to set me down sometime. I do have a job to do." What exactly that job was, these days, she was not entirely sure. A significant chunk of the population seemed to expect her to overthrow Sentinel. Earth still needed her; she would be kidding herself to think that the Decepticons would leave Earth alone just because Megatron was under lock and key. They would want revenge on the planet itself, innocent of wrongdoing in this case as it might be. Technically, she was still assigned to spacebridge maintenance. Perhaps the better question, Optimus thought a little traitorously, was not what she was meant to be doing as a little cog in the great Autobot machine, but what she _wanted_ to be doing.

Right now, what she wanted to be doing was very simple. Optimus Prime wanted to nail Sentinel to his berth. The rest she could figure out later.

"You can get dirty later. Right now, I..." Sentinel paused and made a face, realising that getting _dirty_ right now was the subject at hand. "...okay, can I start over? Look, this is the official berthing chamber of the Magnus, and I don't think it's been redecorated since ol' Power Convoy -"

That explained why it was shockingly tasteful. Optimus noted mildly, "I like it."

"- oh," Sentinel said, his mouth making a little 'o'. He looked both flattered and a little deflated, perhaps shelving some plans for redecoration.

"I'd like it better if you'd get on the berth already," Optimus added, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Sentinel glared at her briefly and then gently laid her down on the berth, before sitting down next to her. He reeked of nervousness, so she made the first move, leaning over to kiss him. She could still smell the high grade on him. He leaned back a little, rather than leaning in, so she pushed him all the way over and climbed atop, weighing him down before he could flail too much. Optimus Prime curiously licked into his mouth, tasting the vaulted arch and comparing it with her memories. Her senses were so much clearer and sharper now. She rolled the impurities over on her tongue, deciding that perhaps she did like the bitter edge, after all. Sentinel still squirmed under her, and when she let him go from the kiss, he gasped, optics wide and half-stunned.

Optimus Prime chuckled and kissed down his neck, moving back up just a moment to nip under his chin. He arched his head back and scrambled to put his hands on her hips. Clearly wanting to at least do something, he kissed her helm hesitantly and then more firmly when she pushed back into it. Then he took one hand off her hip to rub one of her antennae. Optimus smiled up at him and asked, "Remembered I like that?"

"Yes, of course!" Sentinel said, in a way that told Optimus Prime he had just gotten lucky and was just taking credit for a memory he did not have.

She sighed. This was going to be a long cycle, was it not? Still, Optimus Prime could not frown long. Sentinel was getting a bit more into the action, and when he faltered, she just grabbed his hands and put them somewhere she liked better. If he pouted over the corrections, she did not care. Optimus had neither the time nor patience then to put up with his tantrums.

Optimus Prime did not take long before she felt a tingle between her legs. It felt a bit off, smaller and more diffuse, which seemed strange, given that this body had wider hips than her old one. She could not feel her probe stiffening, which was odd, because her probe usually hardened long before her port was receptive. In fact, Optimus Prime could not feel her probe at all. She looked down and retracted her pelvic armour to check what might be wrong. Then Optimus Prime stared and, after a moment asked, "Where's my probe?" Was that a second port back there, too?

"Uhm... Viridian ate it, I guess?" Sentinel hazarded, not particularly helpfully. He seemed to enjoy the view, however.

That was a horrible mental image and not at all the kind of eating she wanted to think about in conjunction with probes. Scheduling that memory for deletion, Optimus elbowed him and demanded, "Wheeljack couldn't make a new one!? And what's this extra port, I don't even know -"

"It's a female body?" Sentinel suggested meekly, scooting away from her, his back now up against the berth's headboard.

Females, by default, were built with two ports, both ports smaller than a male's one port, the second port smaller than the first, and no probe. They had a probe mount in more or less the same place a male did, and snapping on a probe was a breeze. Elita-1 had always sworn that not manufacturing females with probes was just a marketing gimmick to get them to go out and buy probes, and then they would pick up other random sex toys while they were in the store. Back then, Optimus had somehow doubted that there was any vast conspiracy to sell sex toys, but now, she wondered. She poked at the ports, which both still had their manufacturer's seals, and her searchable help manual informed her that the primary port was size 4 and the auxiliary was size 3, which was standard for females of her size class. A male would have just had one size 5 port and been done with it. Optimus gritted her teeth together and grumbled, "This is killing my sex drive. Can you just go down on me and I'll sort the probe thing out later?"

Sentinel opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and obediently put his head between her legs. He licked tentatively at her probe mount, too quickly and lightly. Frustrated, Optimus urged, "Don't flutter it like a broken cooling fan! Slower. Firmer. Like you're... waxing me. You used to be good at oral - what happened?"

Sentinel took a moment to glare up at her and mumbled, "Kind of busy down here," which tickled. Optimus could not help giggling. She stroked the antennae on his helm and dimmed her optics, just enjoying the sensations. Optimus would have rather had Sentinel licking her probe, but thanks to the dubious wonders of Autobot medical care, she did not have one right now, and she was determined not to dwell on her loss. Sentinel finally seemed to have remembered what he was doing, which made Optimus realise something. There was no way that Sentinel was cutting a swath through the ladies the way that he liked to brag he did, not if he was this out of practice. Of course, it was all just innuendo. Sentinel boasting beyond his means was nothing new, but if Sentinel was not getting laid on a regular basis, that just might explain part of why he was so uptight.

As Sentinel remembered some of the finer points of technique, Optimus Prime quit thinking about much of anything, her comments reduced to soft gasps. Finally, she sighed contentedly. No, it was not the best oral she had ever been given but it was a fine appetizer. Optimus Prime unlaced her fingers from Sentinel's antennae and ran her fingers down under that chin of his to tilt his head up. She licked her lips, still tasting the night's drinks and the scent of polish, and suggested, though it was more than just a suggestion, "We should have sex."

They had never gotten quite that far as cadets. More make-out sessions than she could count, fingering, and even oral - but at actual sex with Optimus, Sentinel had always balked. Elita-1 had a deal with them that she would do anything with them, as long as she got to watch them do it to each other first, a fun little power game for her. So for Elita-1 to lie down for Sentinel, he would have needed to lie down for Optimus first under her optics. Now, Sentinel had been interested in Optimus lying with him, but if he took Optimus, then Optimus would be the first to take Elita-1, which Sentinel's pride could not abide. The problem was that Sentinel's ego could not abide the idea of Optimus taking him before he took Optimus, either. Something about the whole concept made him choke, just one of the many frustrating things about Sentinel.

Elita-1 was out of the picture now, for infinite ill and sorrow. Optimus Prime did not even have a probe to call her own. If Sentinel choked again now, she would find some real reasons for him to choke.

Sentinel hesitated, which boded, and he asked unsteadily, "Really? Uhm..."

Optimus Prime rolled over and easily dragged Sentinel on top of her. He was so finicky about being in charge, but surely there would be nothing he could complain about now. She said slowly, smiling beatifically, "I suppose I could go tell the tabloids how you can't get it up..."

"What!? Of course I can get it up," Sentinel protested, huffy and affronted. He retracted his pelvic armour and extended his probe, which amusingly enough, was marked with the same orange arrows that he had on his forearm, perhaps in case he ever forgot whichever direction it was supposed to go. He looked almost achingly stiff, though, and Optimus felt a wicked little thrill that she could get such a visceral reaction out of stuffy Sentinel.

She reached out and stroked his probe lightly with the back of her hand, delighting in his faint shudders, and asked, "So you have a size 4, right?"

"I... uh... yes! Yes, of course. Ha ha, who doesn't have a set of the common sizes, am I right?" Sentinel replied, in that overly smooth way of his. He busied himself swapping out that size 5 for a size 4, which looked much the same, only a bit smaller, and he added, "And you'll turn off your dentata."

"My what?" Optimus Prime's optics cycled a blink, and she went into her help files again. She had a dentata? She had a dentata! A dentata was a spiral iris of retractable teeth, designed to shred unwanted intruders, by default always active to fend off surprises. She would need to consciously deactivate it. That was... thoughtful of Wheeljack, she guessed? Her face screwed into something between distaste and mortification. If Sentinel had not warned her, she would have bitten off his probe! "MilSpec is weird."

"Mm-hmm," agreed Sentinel, sounding a bit preoccupied. He was rather gingerly touching the rim of her primary port with his first and second fingers, like he was worried he was going to cut himself. "But it's off, right?"

"It's off," Optimus confirmed, putting her hand over his to guide him. "Would you just put on a firewall cap and get on with it?" Was it the drink? Was it the new body? Was it that she had been waiting for thousands of years for Sentinel to get over himself enough to sleep with her?

"AllSpark, okay, okay!" Sentinel grumbled back, gingerly trying to get himself aligned. Aside from the firewall part, he definitely seemed a bit confused about what he was doing, which again made Optimus wonder how often or not Sentinel got laid. She managed to wrangle him into position with minimal damage to his dignity and then wrapped her legs up around his hips to pull him in when he proved reluctant to thrust. They both gasped, Sentinel more in surprise and Optimus more in pleasure, but shock aside, Sentinel looked gratified. He murmured, more to himself than her, but her sharpened audios caught him anyway, "Oh. That really is as good as..."

"As good as what?" Optimus Prime asked, rolling her hips toward him. "You have to move it, you know." Sentinel did, unfortunately jabbing it, hitting the bottom of her port about midway in. Optimus's face screwed in pain, and he jabbed it a few more times before she managed to whack him on the helm with the back of her hand, sputtering, "Smoothly, Sentinel, smoothly! You shouldn't be _hitting_ anything."

"If this was so easy, you'd have a probe!" Sentinel snapped back, completely losing whatever tenuous grip on tact he may have had. He did change his angle and ended up jabbing it into the middle of the top of her port instead.

Optimus Prime narrowed her optics and gritted out, "It's a cylinder in a cylinder. Does 'parallel' mean anything to you? Look, let me just get out a link cable, and then I'll show you what I mean." Could she even access her old subspace pocket? All she needed was the right frequency, and the subspace generator ought to be able to reach the pocket. Subspace was not a physical part of a body; Viridian should not have ruined that, too. While she rummaged, Sentinel managed to straighten out enough that he was slamming into the back of her port instead. Maybe sleeping with someone who had no idea how to follow simple Terran traffic laws was not such a great idea. She found the link cable and pried at his forearm, quite intending to show him just how annoying it was to have a hard metal object rammed into something sensitive - super-sensitive, courtesy of Wheeljack apparently thinking that super-senses were meant to go everywhere.

Then Sentinel came. He slumped against her chest and stopped moving, which did not hurt, but the loss of tension in his probe told her that she was not going to get hers, even more frustratingly.

Optimus Prime groaned and thwacked him on the head again, demanding, "What are you, one century? Who comes that quickly but race cars?"

"Like it's my fault that you can't -" Sentinel started to say.

"That I can't what?" Optimus Prime said softly, staring at him levelly. She shifted the grip her legs had on his hips, not-so-subtly reminding him that she could throw him, and given where his probe was at the moment, it would be snapped neatly in half.

"I... uhm," Sentinel sputtered. He pulled out and retracted his probe rather hastily.

"Sentinel, you have that size 5?" Optimus asked, tone leading.

"But that won't fit," Sentinel replied, frowning, "and there's the refractory period..."

"It'll fit in _you_. Give me that," Optimus finished, quite reasonably, she felt. With him out of her, she rolled him over and pinned him down, hands over his hands, knees heavy on his knees. There was that old incoherent fear she remembered from their cadet days, that frantic panic in his optics. She goaded him, appealing to his stubborn pride, "What are you, afraid?"

"I'm not afraid!" Sentinel squawked back, all offended ego. "But don't you think we should wait a bit? I mean, we just had sex."

" _You_ had sex," Optimus Prime corrected. "Look, you can let me borrow that size 5 of yours. You know it'll fit; it was made for you. Or." She paused. "I can go down to Jackpot's Emporium and pick out something that _I_ like. I hear the Bonecrusher's fun."

Sentinel handed her the probe with no further protests. She snapped it on her probe mount, her anti-virus software checked it out, and it booted up just fine. Optimus Prime sat back up a bit, stroking herself a little with one hand and reaching for Sentinel's port with the other. She halted as a thought struck her, and she asked, "Do you have a dentata, too?"

"Erm, yes. I'll turn that off," Sentinel replied, squirming uncomfortably underneath her.

She played with the rim of his port and noticed the factory seal across it. Optimus had initially thought that Sentinel's port had just been replaced with a new one due to Viridian damage, but now, she was not so sure. He had been all but clueless about coupling. A ladies' man, he was not. Chewing her lip, Optimus asked about the proverbial missile truck in the room, "Have you ever actually had sex before now?"

"Sure! Lots of times!" Sentinel insisted.

" _Penetrative_ sex? Not manual or oral or link-cable sex?" Optimus Prime further inquired.

"Not so much, I suppose," Sentinel admitted, looking away.

Optimus covered half her face with her hand and groaned, "That explains so much." The pundits who quipped that Sentinel needed to get laid and loosen up a bit were more correct than they knew. She shifted around, sat up, back against the headboard, and put Sentinel on her lap, facing away from her. What was now her probe rubbed against Sentinel's inner thigh. She nibbled at the back of his helm and murmured, "This way, you'll be able to control how deep or not you want me to go, but first, I think I'll finger you a bit to relax you. Let me tap your port sensory feeds so I can be sure you're enjoying it?"

Sentinel let her plug the link cable into a dataport on his arm so she could monitor his sensory feeds, and she broke his seal, wiggling her little finger inside him to feel him out. He was awfully dry, a situation she resolved to fix. There were a few different zones inside a port that responded exceptionally well to stimulation, and Optimus set out of find them, touching him gently as she could. Sentinel still squirmed, so she wrapped her other arm around his chest and tickled at the grill structure there to distract him a bit. When he had relaxed, she pulled out her little finger and tried the next one up. Irritatingly, he tensed right back up at the intrusion, but Optimus persisted. She curled her finger inside him, gently rubbing against the front wall of his port, not too far in, to relax him again, before moving deeper. The link cable told her that Sentinel was indeed responding, though not particularly strongly, but she was not putting him through any pain. So she persisted, working her way up to her largest finger. Optimus pushed in deeply, almost to the back of his port, and searched out the sensor node there, knowing that, at least as far as her experience went, stimulating there ought to at least get him wet.

He arched back against her, head tilted back, and shuddered. A trickled of lubricant rewarded her, and Optimus Prime persisted in rubbing him. Sentinel bit back a moan as he sank down lower on her lap, letting her finger him deeper, and his legs parted wider. She worked him a bit harder, because the better it felt for him, the more his pain sensors would be suppressed, and the rougher she could go without hurting him. Eventually, Sentinel was wet enough that Optimus knew she could take him without trouble, but she kept up fingering him instead, monitoring his sensations over the link cable.

Sentinel was so very close to coming from his port, and she wanted to push him over the edge, so she did. He jerked a bit, straining against the arm she held around his chest, and whimpered. Then, he went rather still, slumped on her lap, and hung his head. She reached her free hand up to tickle her chin and kissed at the back of his helm some more to calm and reassure him. Rather self-satisfied, Optimus Prime pointed out, "See? Your port works just fine."

"Never said it didn't," Sentinel mumbled back, sounding a little dazed.

Optimus Prime took her finger out of him and eased the tip of her probe to his opening, rubbing it back and forth. She cautioned, because even her curiously enhanced libido could not get in the way of her sense of duty, "If there's anything you don't like, just let me know, and I'll stop," and then she entered him shallowly.

Sentinel gasped sharply and arched back against her. Then he bent forward, put his hands on her knees to steady himself, and acknowledged, "G-got it."

Sometimes, when she thrust into him, he pushed back down to meet her. Other times, he retreated upward, still shy. Optimus teased, "I knew you were uptight, Sentinel, but this is a little ridiculous."

He was deliciously tight, though. Keeping herself throttled back so she would not hurt him was a struggle. Optimus Prime had to admit, she wanted to lay into him and really give him a good reaming, but that was just the centuries of frustration speaking, she told herself. Scaring him now was not going to do her any good, so she kept that in mind and stayed shallow. She did settle her hands on his hips, keeping him aligned and giving him a light tug down now and then to keep him on track.

Not outright yanking him down on her became harder and harder, and her engine rumbled hungrily. She moved a bit deeper and ground on one of the sensor nodes she had found earlier, checking through the link to make sure he liked it. Optimus Prime did not need the link, though, because Sentinel sputtered, "Nnng! More of that, Optimus, more!"

Optimus stroked his cheek and suggested, "Why don't you ask nicely?"

"Puh-please?" Sentinel replied immediately, unthinkingly.

Charmed by that ready compliance, Optimus Prime ground more, making lazy circles inside Sentinel. His grip on her knees tightened, and she could hear his engine hammering, even over the sound of her own. She could feel how close Sentinel was, through the link and through how he matched her every thrust now, not retreating anymore. She wanted him closer, and she wanted him _there_ , because she was going to see him come before she did and show him how it was done. Optimus pistoned in deeper, reaching that deep sensor node he had enjoyed so much before when she fingered him, and she pulled the probe taut against his back wall to slide against two nodes at once.

Sentinel screamed, utterly stripped of dignity, and collapsed on her lap, head between her knees. His engine quieted at once, but she could feel aftershocks over the link. She grinned. A few more strokes finished her, bringing her to a very satisfying climax in that exquisitely tight port of his. A bit more coherent than he, Optimus said slowly, "I think, next time, I want you to call my name." That would make it perfect. She took her hand off his hips and tangled her fingers in his antennae, delighted by how they twitched and quirked.

Sentinel was a long while in answering, "I'll keep that in mind."

Optimus pulled out of him, detached the probe and the link cable, and set them off to the side. She lay down on her side and pulled him against her, spooning, running her hands over his abdomen. He still shivered, and he clutched at her hands, which she let him do. She kissed the top of his head reassuringly and, when he finally seemed settled, asked, "Think you can get it back up?"

"Hng, what?" Sentinel groaned, laying his antennae back. He was probably overstimulated, but it did not change what she wanted.

"Is your refractory period over?" she questioned further. "I can give you fellatio, if you need help getting it back up."

Sentinel rolled away from her and gave her a torn look. He offered, "Well, if you put it _that_ way..."

Optimus Prime smirked. She did not think greedy, selfish little Sentinel was going to turn down her going down on him. She sat him back up against the headboard and lightly touched his probe, checking to make sure he was not sore to the touch. The probe's segmented plates were limp in her hand, not rigidly interlocking, but Sentinel did not complain. So she flicked her tongue against the tip of the probe experimentally. Optimus could taste herself on it, but that was not surprising given where it had just been. There was a faint taste of cleaning solution, too, as with everywhere else on him, and a certain newness. She kissed the tip and held that for a moment before licking down the length. Optimus was firmer coming back up, and she looked at Sentinel's face, trying to gauge his reaction. She did not want him to come early again; she just wanted him hard enough for another round. Optimus kept up that pattern, light down, and firm up, just to break it. While pattern-loving Sentinel was still surprised, she took the head in her mouth, swirling the tip with her tongue, and rubbed the shaft with her hand.

"Now _this_ is the life," Sentinel opined, a wide, lecherous smile on his face.

Optimus only worked him back to stiffness, though, before advancing on him. She straddled him and eased herself down on the probe tip, rubbing it against the rim of her port to activate all the sensors there, though she stayed away from the probe mount itself, which was still sore from screwing Sentinel, even though she had detached the borrowed probe itself. Optimus grabbed the link cable again, this time plugging in to tap Sentinel's probe feed, so she could make sure he did not come early again.

Right now, Optimus Prime was just driving Sentinel crazy. His moans almost - _almost_ \- were better than the sensations rippling through her port. The superficial sensors on that outer rim alone would be enough to get her off for starters, before she even took him inside again. She wrapped her hand around his shaft for better control, so she could really give herself the attention she deserved. Having her other hand free, she reached around to squeeze Sentinel's adorably tight little backside. He yelped, and she chuckled.

When that first scintillating electric pulse shook her, Optimus Prime bit her lip and finally let Sentinel back in, just deep enough to tantalise the first major internal sensor node. He asked hazily, "Did you just come?"

"Mmm, _maybe_ ," Optimus replied ambiguously, rather distracted. She wanted more than one peak, and switching what sensor group was primarily being stimulated might just give her that. That node was absolutely loving Sentinel's thickness, the slippery slide of smooth metal against metal. She rolled her hips, changing her angle just a bit to alter the sensation. Her excitement spiked higher.

Even Sentinel could not manage much suspicion during coupling, but he managed a little, hazarding again, "I think you already came."

Optimus Prime could feel the plates of his probe interlocking more rigidly, and the link told her his pleasure. She did not want him coming yet, not while she still needed his probe hot and hard. Very deliberately, she reached down and gave the base of his shaft a pinch. The pain rang across the link, and Sentinel sputtered, "What the slag was that for!?"

His probe softened just a bit as hydraulic fluid was shunted out. She ground on him and clicked her tongue, answering between pants, "You, ah, were going to come, aah, early, _again_."

"You came already!" Sentinel protested.

"Ah- _ah_ ," Optimus chastised him, throwing her head back and letting her optics dim. She felt like she was lighting up like a fireworks show on Earth, and she sunk lower on him.

"You just came again!" he accused.

Optimus Prime swung her head around to look down at him, and she explained, surprisingly coherently, "You've already got off three times, and you've got another one coming. That means I need four." She licked her lips. "One more. You can last a little longer, can't you?" She squeezed his probe, reminding him of what she might do if he could not.

"Yeah, I'll... do... that," Sentinel muttered, taking on the look of someone desperately trying to think about mecha-soccer and cold solvent showers because the alternative was simply too grim to contemplate. He stared determinedly up at the ceiling, which had seen generations of Magnii before him. Only history would say whether that ceiling saw him as a Magnus, too. Optimus was more concerned with seeing him give her one more orgasm before she let him get off.

She ran her hands over his abdomen playfully. Maybe that made it harder for him. Optimus Prime loved the sound of Sentinel's whimpers and knowing they were all because of her. Their engines hammering together, louder and louder, made a rhythm as intoxicating as the high grade in her systems. She had what she had wanted from Sentinel for so long, and he was loving it, too, wordlessly begging her. There could be no words and no world around them. There was only the sublime suffusion of her deepest sensors.

Optimus Prime let go, feeling like she was floating, buoyed high by a thermal.

As she drifted back down, she thought she heard Sentinel calling her name. She whispered fiercely, "That's Optimus _Prime_ to you," and she held what was hers tightly against the coming cycle.

* * *

  
"What about you on all fours? Or, oh, in alternate mode?" Optimus Prime suggested brightly, nuzzling Sentinel. She was not hung over, which was a pleasant surprise. Her new body became overcharged easily, thanks to its energy efficiency, but its filters for impurities were top-notch.

Sentinel was obviously hung over, though. He groaned and tried to deflect her attentions, suggesting, "Don't you need to go see Wheeljack? Get all those checks finalised?"

"We could be quick," Optimus said. She nipped the tips of his antennae.

He batted a hand at her and grumbled, "I'm slagging _sore_.

Optimus frowned and said, "I was gentle with you."

"If that's gentle, don't show me normal, and never show me rough," Sentinel groused back, dashing Optimus's hopes of reaming him. Then he looked distracted and touched the side of his helm with his forefingers. Sentinel managed to get to his feet, though he was not walking straight, and he said brusquely, "Excuse me. I have to get this radio." He staggered off into another room of his quarters, leaving Optimus on the berth.

She pushed herself up with her hands, marvelling at how easy it was. She felt light as spun wire, but she knew this body was heavier than her old one. Her lift servos were stronger, much stronger. That was the difference. Optimus Prime stretched, testing the limits of her joints. More or less satisfied with herself, she transformed, transformed again, and stood up. The heels would still take some learning to master, she thought, but most of the wobbles were gone. Not being overcharged definitely helped.

Sentinel poked his head back in and said, "I'm borrowing you. Follow me," and he headed off for the balcony.

Nonplussed, Optimus Prime followed him. She looked out, wondering what she was supposed to see. He looked up instead, and she followed his gaze. Atop Fortress Maximus, where they were, was a series of extremely foreboding clouds.

Cybertron did not have clouds, not normally. Earth had clouds. Earth clouds were generally rather fluffy and soft-looking, but sometimes, they were dark and ominous and brought storms instead.

"Those are storm clouds," Optimus Prime blurted.

"Oh, slag me! Is there going to be rain?" Sentinel asked, grabbing her arm and huddling against her side. It never rained on Cybertron. She knew how he loathed Earth's rain.

Optimus leaned out over the balcony and twisted around to look up at the very top of Fortress Maximus. She squinted and said, "I think there's someone up there."

"You'd think that, huh? Well, you'd be thinking... correctly," Sentinel admitted, and he took her back into her quarters, down a door that had not been open before. Monitors scrolling feeds covered every wall, much of the ceiling, and also the floor. Sentinel looked around for a moment and then pointed out one monitor in particular. "And he looks like you."

The security footage of the top of Fortress Maximus showed a dark duplicate of her old, male body, detailed with teal and gunmetal. He was standing next to a strange machine of some sort that smacked of Decepticon tinkering. He turned red optics directly at the security camera, and the feed winked out.

"I'll handle it," Optimus Prime said flatly, and she turned to head out. "With my grapplers, I can scale the side of Fortress Maximus and be to the top in a processor tick."

"In _my_ jurisdiction?" Sentinel said softly, threateningly. "Besides, I have a faster way up."

He could have used that faster way up yesterday, but Optimus did not say that. She said, "Elevator?"

Sentinel tapped one of the monitors, and the wall swung open, revealing a secret room. Strange mods and weapons covered the walls, all neatly sorted on racks. Some looked positively ancient. Optimus Prime remembered a few from history videos; they had been used by Magnii past in times of great desperation. There was the Cursed Sword of Slaughter, a sapient blade that could make a master swordsman of any wielder at the price of spark corruption. The Tyres of the Road of Leaks were said to grant great speed, at the cost that the wearer would start leaking until the wearer or an enemy died, whichever came first. The Magnificence sat winking in a sealed clear box across the shelf from the Lament Configuration. One shelf below held the Millennium Items. The far wall, she was sure, held the Pandorica. History-loving Optimus Prime could have spent a vorn here studying these artefacts, and she was sure Glyph would have died of joy if she was here. Optimus closed her gaping jaw and asked, tone hushed and awed, "Is that an uncensored copy of The Autobot Code?"

There were newer items, too, and it was to one of those that Sentinel walked, running his hand over a broad blue wing. He said absently, "First edition. Used to have the Covenant, too, but I had to give that back to Alpha Trion to shut him up. Now... you've flown before, right? These wings are a component of Project Powermaster. You haven't heard of it, and you continue to not have heard of it, even though I just mentioned it, if you get my drift. Despite these wings legally not existing, you may borrow them, on one condition."

The Powermaster wings were longer and broader than her Wingblade wings, which she supposed had probably been destroyed by Viridian, and were painted to match Sentinel. In this den of cursed items, Optimus Prime asked dubiously, "What's the catch?"

"Show me how to use them later!" Sentinel said quickly, clutching her by the arm. "I'd ask the Twins, but they'll just make fun of me."

Optimus Prime would probably make fun of Sentinel, too, but she had the tact not to say as much right then. She scoffed, "Me teach you something? You asked for it." She reached for the wings and snapped them on, feeling an absolutely dizzying rush. A new set of sensory data for altitude, airspeed, vertical speed, and other measurements popped into her head. She considered trying to hover up, thought of the ceiling, and thought better of it. Her Wingblade jetpack gave her better speed and manoeuvrability. These Powermaster wings felt clunky by comparison, but she could tell they had better endurance, lifting power, and durability. She figured they were designed for Sentinel, who did not need to worry about dodging with that Skyboom Shield of his.

Optimus Prime turned to move out decisively, but Sentinel did not let go. He added, "And you'll carry me up there."

Her face twisted with displeasure. Sentinel _could_ be a strong, capable warrior. He could also rush into things without thinking and make a complete hash of it. She muttered sullenly, "You said you were sore," but she grabbed him anyway, bounded to the balcony, and took off.

Sentinel huddled tightly close as a coat of wax, something Optimus Prime welcomed. He did feel so good against her. The winds were atrocious, however, howling around Fortress Maximus like one of Jetstorm's cyclones. Only willpower and her flight instruments kept her from vertigo. Air was only air, and she climbed, gaining altitude. She touched down on the roof, behind her dark duplicate. Sentinel fell to his hands and knees, kissing the roof underneath him. Ignoring his airsickness, Optimus tried to summon her axe and found that, too, was gone. She and that axe had seen so much together! Optimus Prime would mourn it later, when she had time. Instead, a pair of Battle Blades flicked out from her wrists, glowing orange and keen edged.

Optimus Prime crept up behind her black doppelganger, the howl of the wind hiding her approach, and she touched a blade to the back of his neck. She demanded, "Hands up, nice and easy now."

A mule kick to her knee sent her flying backwards. She grappled onto the edge of the roof with one of her lines, gasping in pain. Her nemesis withdrew a Vorpal Saber and advanced. The rush of the wind over the blade made a _snicker-snakt_ noise, making Optimus think of severed heads. His red optics were entirely blank, betraying no trace of a mind behind them. She kicked off the wall and flipped over, pulling her line to send those sharpened stilettos of hers right into the Decepticon.

The hit was good, and she nailed him down to the roof. While he struggled, she yanked the Vorpal Saber out of his hands and cast it aside. She put one of her battle blades to his chin and said challengingly, "You want to try that again?" Meanwhile, Sentinel had straightened himself out enough to go check on the device. He had his hand to his antennae and the look of being on the radio again. She called over to him, "Spare a pair of stasis cuffs?"

"Keep him down. I'll cuff him," Sentinel replied, shaking his head. Of course he would want to grab at a chance to steal a little glory like that, but he had a point. Optimus Prime did not really want to take her blade off her copy.

Then the copy sat up, taking the sharp blade clean through his neck. The vacant look in his optics did not flicker, and he showed no pain at all, even when his head rolled off his shoulders. He flung her off of him, ignoring the massive holes tearing out her heels tore in his chest. Then he reached for his head and settled it back on his shoulders.

"Okay. That's slagged up," Sentinel opined. He quickly added his shield to his off hand, keeping the cuffs out and readied.

The holes in his chest closed, and he shot a few blasts at Optimus with forearmed-mounted guns. She dodged without even thinking, hovering up into the air, and exclaimed, "Regeneration - what _is_ this thing!?"

"Got Cliffjumper Prime on marshalling his bots to figure that one out, called the Science Guild to get someone up here to look at that weirdo device, ordered the Cybertron Police Defense Command to maintain order in the surrounding area, told Sparkride and Horsepower not to worry," they were his bodyguards, theoretically, as acting Magnus, "and that just leaves... us and him," Sentinel rattled off rapid-fire. When he did not micro-manage and stuck with putting bots with the right talents in the right places, Sentinel was... better at doing his job than Optimus really liked to admit. "I'd call in the Twins, but they're halfway across the planet with Jazz doing a little errand for me. So!"

Optimus Prime realised, with a sinking feeling, that she had not even thought of her own team. Loaded up on mods as she was, it had seemed plausible, at the time, that maybe she did not need any help. Prowl's frequency came to her mind first, a painful reminder that he was gone for good. She lashed out, snaring her dark copy with a grappler, and jetted across the roof, dragging him hard enough to kick up sparks. Then she flung him at Sentinel and called, "Catch!"

Sentinel managed to snap the stasis cuffs on the Decepticon's wrists, though he was knocked over in the process. He exclaimed, "Ooof!" and shot her a hurt look.

Optimus Prime shrugged innocently and touched back down on the roof. She had just thrashed a Decepticon without even gearing up her engine. He had been a fierce fighter, too, plus that weird regeneration trick, but she had taken him down fast and hard. Not long ago, she would not have even had a chance in that fight. Optimus Prime felt almost giddy, exulting in what she could do now. She retracted her Battle Blades, snagged Sentinel, and kissed him, bending him back in her arms.

Sentinel looked a bit dazed and leaned against her chest for a moment to get his bearings back. Then he stepped aside and rubbed his mouth, looking away awkwardly. "Right... so. The Autotroopers will book this whackjob. We need to get you back down to my quarters and out of those wings before anyone sees you - I'll just have the security tapes deleted - and, as I recall, we had some serious issues to -"

The Decepticon fuzzed out, transforming into static like a malfunctioning monitor, and winked out of visibility entirely. Optimus could not see him on any of the more exotic wavelengths her new optics could detect. He reappeared behind Sentinel, the Vorpal Saber incongruously in his hand. He punched it through Sentinel's torso and flung him off the roof. The howling winds dampened Sentinel's scream.

Optimus Prime rushed after Sentinel, and the Decepticon shot her in the back repeatedly. The jetpack stuttered and shorted, and she dropped to her knees. Optimus felt numb with shock more than anything else. Pain would come later. She rallied herself into anger, something that was becoming worryingly easy, and she slid out her Battle Blades again and thrust them both into her copy's middle. Optimus tore him in half, kicked away the lower half, and took a stab at the top. She seethed, "So you regenerate. I'm just going to see how many pieces I have to break you into before you can't pull yourself together anymore."

Even dismembered, the Decepticon fought her, lashing out with every ounce of his being as she cut him down to size. Most troubling, nowhere in there did she see a spark. Eventually, the monster crumbled to shimmering static dust and was blown away by the uncaring wind. Optimus Prime watched it go, head tilted, and she felt sick to her fuel tank. Even Megatron she had taken alive in shackles. Trembling, she stepped closer to the edge where she had seen Sentinel fall. Sentinel's head had been taken off and kicked around before. He was a tough bot. If he bounced off the side of Fortress Maximus a bit on the way down, he might still be alive, even if that was an awfully long drop. Optimus Prime half covered her face with a hand and looked down.

"I figured out a use for the slagging butterfly configuration," Sentinel called, his shield embedded in the side of the wall and the only thing holding him up.

* * *

  
"I tell you not to do anything strenuous, and you two go pick a fight with - whadda they calling this creep - Nemesis Prime?" Wheeljack demanded, throwing his arms in the air.

Sentinel poked at the wrappings around his torso. The wrappings would keep him from mucking up the filler resin while it was setting, but he seemed annoyed by them.

Optimus Prime itched. The Powermaster wings were more damaged than she was, but the new repairs still made her twitchy. She missed Ratchet working on her. Perceptor was cold to the point of creepy, and Wheeljack fussed over her mods more than he seemed to actually care about her as a patient. She said firmly, "It needed doing." She was not going to tell Wheeljack about any of the _other_ strenuous things she had done lately. He did not need to know her libido was running higher than usual.

"After preliminary study, the device appears to have been an atmospheric phenomenon generator," Perceptor reported in his odd, uninflected voice. "The technology has the capacity to cause sufficient ionisation of atmospheric chemicals to subject at least 97% of Cybertron's surface to a condition colloquially known as 'acid rain', which may induce paralytic lockup in most Cybertronians in addition to superficial damage."

"Extra evil rain!" Sentinel summarised, wiggling his fingers and making an unintentionally hilarious expression. All rain was evil to him.

"Whereas this... Nemesis Prime appears to be a modified version of the Sideways virus, a fully digitised tangible being capable of corporal restoration from remote back-up. I believe we have all traces isolated and contained for further study," Perceptor continued.

So Optimus Prime had not killed Nemesis Prime, after all, just cut him to pieces, and now he was in a Science Guild holding facility somewhere. She was not sure that was actually an improvement. Dead or alive, Optimus Prime had _wanted_ to hurt Nemesis Prime for hurting Sentinel, and she could blame neither duty nor the mods for that urge.

"The readings are good, so I'll let you two check out, but if I see either of you banged up before the quartex is out, I'ma weld you both to the table," Wheeljack cheerily finished, shooing them off.

Sentinel was limping a bit, so Optimus Prime lent him a shoulder and put a hand around his hip to steady him. As soon as they were out of sight of Perceptor and Wheeljack, she nuzzled his antennae and asked, "You wanted to... talk?"

Sentinel winced and said, "Yes. I did. Optimus... Prime, will you be my Elite Guard Commander?"

Optimus paused her walk. He had asked her that before, and she had turned him down then. He had offered it almost as a bribe then, something to keep her quiet. He more or less meant it that way now, too. If she took that offer, she would be tacitly turning down any claim to being Magnus that she might have. She would effectively be condoning his actions in the view of the public. At the same time, he did have some very, very influential friends on the Council and scattered through the military-industrial complex. Taking him down would make enemies of them and, worse, it would make an enemy of Sentinel for good. Optimus Prime would never again have a crack at that sweet, tight skidplate, which was a very small consideration balanced against the good of the Commonwealth, but it was a consideration all the same.

The fact was, she did not even _want_ to be Magnus. She never had. Optimus Prime wanted to do her best, because she could and because the great Autobot machine deserved it. Most of all, when she was honest with herself, she wanted to be the _hero_. That was not the Magnus. The world of the Magnus was rendered in shades of grey, of weighing one bad choice against another and making the best of it. The Magnus was, in many ways, trapped, hands tied, lacking the freedom to choose what was right because one right choice might have greater wrong repercussions down the road.

Ultra Prime had been a hero, pure and simple, but when he ascended to the hallowed office of Magnus, he had given it up, in ways both little and profound. For every time he rescued hostages on the cusp of an event horizon, there had been a time when he signed the Decepticon Registration Act or green lighted Project Omega.

Could Optimus Prime even do that? Then again, was turning her back on the problem not equivalent to endorsing it? If Sentinel had been, perhaps, a slightly better Autobot, she could have given him her support without worry. He was not, and therein laid her dilemma. She could support someone else as Magnus - maybe that Rodimus Prime - but she would still lose Sentinel and make his allies her enemies in the process.

Too, Earth still needed, if not her, someone suitable to atone for the damage that the Transformers had caused the planet. Most Autobots would be too terrified of organic life to do the job. Sentinel, flawed and bigoted as he was, was braver than most for having shaken a human's hand, even if he washed himself afterwards. A 'normal' Autobot would have run screaming and gibbering, like Firestar and Grandus did when Fanzone went to Cybertron, according to Ratchet. If Optimus Prime took the office of Magnus or if she accepted Sentinel's officer of Elite Guard Commander, she would still need to find someone new to look after Earth.

Finally, she needed her team. They had not always worked as well together as they could. She had lost one forever, and Bulkhead was retiring to go back to his energon farm and look after Sari. They were still all she really had. If anyone could keep this new high performance body from going to her head, it would be cranky old Ratchet with his chew-outs about the price of power and irresponsible, impulsive Bumblebee forcing her to be rational one. Her lips moving before her thoughts had finished, Optimus Prime said as much, "I need my team." Then more firmly, she added, "I'm going to see them now."

"Oh, sure, sure," Sentinel said easily, clapping a hand on her shoulder. "They can be granted provisional Guard status, as long as they pass the exams later to make it official." He was smiling, but his optics made clear just how painful that offer was to him.

Optimus Prime stopped and stared at him, and then she shook her head and insisted, "Don't ever tell Bumblebee that." He would be insufferable! Still, if she could keep her team, that changed things.

"Oh, believe me, I don't _want_ to tell Bumblebee," Sentinel replied, smirking unkindly, "but I'll tell him if you won't. Provisional Guard status for him if he gets you to go along with it."

Optimus Prime shuddered, imagining just how obnoxious Bumblebee would be. He had always wanted to be a Guardsman. Bumblebee even had a new paintjob all picked out if he ever made it. She pushed Sentinel away from her and into the wall, ignoring how he was injured. Coldly, she said, "I have faith in my team."

Sentinel sank along the wall with a scraping sound, but his grin did not fade. He called out to her, "Come on. Hero of the Commonwealth. That's what you've always wanted, ever since we were cadets. That's what a good Elite Guard Commander is, if you play the publicity right."

"I want what's right," Optimus Prime corrected, though Sentinel was not wrong. He knew her too well.

"You won't have much a chance to do anything, right or wrong, if you're reassigned to space bridge maintenance in the back end of Xiberia," Sentinel observed conversationally, playing down the threat he had just made. "Whereas the Elite Guard Commander would be needed on Earth to make sure that all traces of Decepticon influence are gone."

"Coercion, now?" Optimus asked, disgusted. Her hands clenched into fists.

"And telling me you'll tell the tabloids that, surprise, surprise, a virgin doesn't know what he's doing in bed isn't? Get over yourself," Sentinel replied, getting to his feet, a bit wobbly.

"I..." Optimus's optics cycled a blink. She blurted defensively, "You could have said, 'No.'"

"And you could say, 'No,' now," Sentinel said, too reasonably, not saying what he surely meant, _but you won't._

Optimus Prime deliberately unclenched her hands and said slowly, to make sure Sentinel heard her, "I will be your Elite Guard Commander, and I am going to watch you like an Ardurian roc, you understand? Whenever you pick what is easy or self-serving over what is right, I will be there, and I will take you to pieces. Are we clear?" There were times when Sentinel was good, and there were times when he was great, but he had never possessed a conscience. She would just have to be conscience enough for the two of them.

"Perfectly," Sentinel said crisply, and he reached for her arm to steady himself. He touched her cheek and asked softly, "but who is going to watch you, hmm?"

Optimus Prime looked away and replied with quiet certainty, "My team."

* * *

  
Being faster should have made it easier for Optimus Prime to drive to where Omega Supreme was dry-docked. Instead, she had to fight her way through hordes of paparazzi. Eventually, an Autotrooper came along to give her an escort and help clear the crowds for her, which made her feel embarrassed, though she was grateful. She muttered to herself, "I swear, if I get one more question about whether or not Sentinel's secretly a woman, I'm going to scream."

She rounded the corner and up Omega Supreme's gangplank, and Ratchet offered, "I can do some of that screaming for you. The slotting _Pit_ did you let them do to you?"

"Oh, uhm. There are some security flaws in my old body shell. This was the closest compatible one," Optimus Prime replied, smiling despite herself. She was just so glad to see Ratchet again! She tried not to think about one of the security flaws she had seen in action, that Nemesis Prime. The thought of being corrupted like him was horrifying. She could have done without the involuntary sex reassignment, but she could not blame them so much for the body transfer after seeing that abomination.

"No, I don't mean that," Ratchet said, scowling. "I mean those stupid wings!"

"Sentinel said he'd have those security tapes deleted," Optimus said, and she frowned. She did not approve of Sentinel's cavalier approach towards disposal of inconvenient information, but dealing with the media conjecture was going to be a pain in the skidplate.

"Yeah? You tell that to every news network in the Commonwealth," Ratchet grunted. They walked deeper inside, and Ratchet flicked on a monitor. The pundits were eagerly speculating about her, gesturing to a blurry holo of her in the Powermaster wings, which were very obviously Sentinel's specific blue and orange. "What were you thinkin', runnin' around wearin' one of that exhaust pipe's mods? And what hack job did your repairs? And one last thing - did that creep touch you? If you need him welded to a wall, I -"

"It was more of a mutual touching," Optimus Prime said, holding her hands up defensively.

"He what!?" Ratchet demanded. "I figured the rag sheets were just going off half-clocked again."

"Calm down," Optimus urged. "We used to date!" if fooling around as cadets could be considering dating, "He's really not that bad." No, he was worse, in terrible, awful ways, though he was not entirely lacking in better qualities.

"Did they muck with your coding, Optimus?" Ratchet asked, pulling out his medical scanner and regarding her suspiciously.

"No, I'm fine," Optimus insisted and then asked something she would probably regret, "Can I just talk to Bumblebee?"

"Bumblebee's around somewhere," Ratchet said, waving a hand dismissively. "Had a rough time recovering."

Optimus Prime moved off to look for him, and Ratchet followed along. She narrowed her optics and said slowly, "Sentinel said that no one else was hit by Viridian..."

"Bumblebee wasn't," Ratchet admitted. "Blot ate him. I had to cut him out of Blot's main tank. Made his whole body a biohazard, but I fixed him up with a spark transplant."

"Oh, you really are a girl! Huh," exclaimed a voice that was familiar to Optimus, but a bit squeakier and higher pitched. Bumblebee looked up at her, just peeking around a corner.

Optimus Prime craned her head to the side to get a better look at Bumblebee, who looked a bit different than usual. Her face screwed with surprise, though she quickly realised that maybe she should not have been surprised, after all. She turned to Ratchet and asked, not quite believing what she was saying, "Ratchet, why did you make Bumblebee a woman?"

"That's what I said!" Bumblebee agreed loudly, finally coming out into full view.

"'Cos the Protihex Medical Facility was out of 65356-9292-346 **m** because Searchlight's always getting himself wrecked up, so you're stuck with a 65356-9292-346 **f** ," Ratchet grumbled, like he had said it many, many times before.

Optimus Prime sighed and covered half her face. She settled on a sober, "Well. I'm glad you're alive."

"So did you really do the nasty with Sentinel Slagface?' Bumblebee asked, entirely too perky.

"Bumblebee," Optimus gritted out, "that's not really appropriate..."

"I think I got a code patch that'll get rid of unwanted crushes," Ratchet offered, reminding her of the time that he offered her some code to get rid of any heroic urges she might have.

"We are not talking about this!" Optimus Prime snapped, throwing her hands up in the air. "What we _are_ doing is a systems check on Omega Supreme. I've accepted a new commission, and actually being able to ship out for duty might be an idea."

"Eh?" Ratchet and Bumblebee both asked at once.

"I'm going to be the Elite Guard Commander," Optimus Prime said, rolling over how it felt on her tongue. "You both get provisional Elite Guard status, though you'll need to pass the exams later."

"Wait, wait, wait, I get to be a Guardsman?" Bumblebee fairly squealed. She clasped her hands together in delight. "I have my paint scheme all picked out! This is going to rule so much, you don't even know."

"I ain't putting on an Elite Guard symbol," Ratchet grumped. "Done just fine this long as a normal Autobot."

"But we could paint you green!" enthused Bumblebee, trying to shake Ratchet a little and largely failing due to the difference in mass.

Optimus Prime supposed that was settled, then. She would have to look into new members to round out her team. They would not replace Prowl and Bulkhead. No one could ever replace them. Regrets would not change the fact that she needed a stealth operative and a heavy. Regrets never changed anything.

* * *

  
"Jazz is quite keen to go with you," Sentinel said, oddly muted and bitter. Of course he felt slighted that Jazz would rather work with her than him, taking it personally rather than simply seeing it as effective allocation of personnel. "He says he'd be honoured to continue where Prowl left off."

"I'd be happy to have Jazz," Optimus agreed, keeping her voice neutral. She was not going to risk sounding too eager and sending Sentinel into a pointless snit, but she liked Jazz and knew he could handle being around organics. "Picking a new heavy's a bit harder, but I've looked over the profiles, and I'd like to request Ironhide." Reading over his profile, Ironhide had applied to the Guard a number of times, but he'd been sidelined to guarding space bridge 687-030 with Team Athenia. After Team Athenia fell, he reapplied and was accepted. The important thing about Ironhide, Optimus Prime felt, was that he was young and might not be as set in his ways as some. He was actually Bumblebee's age, if she read the dossier correctly.

"Hmm, him? Good kid if I remember right," Sentinel remarked, looking over at the file absently.

"So if that's settled," Optimus Prime said, stretching, "I won't see you for a while after I ship out. I'll stay in contact over video conference," AllSpark, would she ever. She meant it when she said she would watch Sentinel. Optimus had connections of her own in all levels of the Commonwealth now, and she would not hesitate to tap them to keep tabs on the situation. "But... I think you should see me off properly tonight."

Sentinel stiffened a bit and ducked his head, saying quietly, "As you'd like."

"Sentinel," Optimus Prime murmured, frustrated. She reached over his desk to touch his chin and looked at him, trying to convey her sincerity. "I don't want you like... this."

"You have me, regardless," Sentinel pointed out, antennae laid back. He did have to keep her happy, because it would be absolutely disastrous to his image if she left him. "However you'd like me."

"I want you to want me because you want me," Optimus sighed, "not because you have to."

"We all want a lot of things," Sentinel said tiredly and then brightened just a little. "I got you something." He walked around his desk and pressed a plain orange box into her hands.

Optimus brushed her hands over his as she took the box, noting that he did not seem to mind. She opened the box and was a little bewildered by the contents. She said dubiously, "This looks like my probe."

"Good match, then? Optimus, they make replicas of your... everything, pretty much," Sentinel replied. He sat down on the arm of her chair, giving her a very nice view of his adorable aft.

Optimus Prime made a face, taken aback. She said slowly, "Replicas of my axe are one thing. This is a bit much. But... thank you. That's... sweet of you." It felt wrong to call anything Sentinel ever did 'sweet', but he was at least trying. "You don't have to do this, you know."

"I know," Sentinel agreed.

They did.

  
**The End**

* * *

  
**Author's Notes:** This fic was written for this kink meme prompt:

_REQ: Animated - fem Optimus Prime/male Sentinel Prime - Genderswapping_

_I realize similar things have been requested, but they don't seem to have the same specifics._

_Something's turned Optimus Prime female. Others can be affected, Sentinel can not be. I'd appreciate a brief explanation of what the plot device is, but it doesn't have to be overly detailed or a major focus. Can be set at any time during the series, or after. If after, I want Sentinel, not Optimus, as the Magnus (though getting rid of Sentinel's Magnus hat is encouraged). PWP or sticky or simply tactile stimulation to overload or whatever. Please no references to sparklings. Can start dub-con (on either part), would like it full-con by the end. Would like both to finish satisfied. Bonus points if she-Optimus finds herself hornier than she's used to in her new body, bonus points, if she comes more than once._

This fic makes use of several Animated Season Four ideas mentioned in the AllSpark Almanac II, such as that Jazz would replace Prowl on Optimus's team, that Bulkhead would retire to an energon farm to watch over Sari, that Ironhide would replace Bulkhead, Kimia, and Project Powermaster. This fic also makes use of how the 'Elite Guard' Bumblebee toy had a different paint scheme than normal Bumblebee. I used a few ideas from Armada in how Nemesis Prime was portrayed, in the concepts that he has a Vorpal Saber, arm guns, and is a digital being as opposed to a normal Transformer, so he can seemingly teleport and regenerate. Optimus's stiletto heels were inspired by the story Stiletto in the comic The Arrival issue 3. Her Battle Blades are from the Michael Bay Transformers movies. The Magnus being loaded down with experimental modifications is from Ultra Magnus's bio in the AllSpark Almanac. The cartoon at one point shows Sentinel in a sling and a cast, so the wrappings in the second medical scene are a reference to that scene and are justified as a measure medics take to keep patients from mucking with resin while it sets. The cartoon also has a running theme that too many mods can mess with one's head, if one is not careful. Xiberia is just a reference to a song I like, but I imagine it is an icy colony in the middle of nowhere, so it is very much a place one does not want to be assigned. There being replicas of Optimus's axe around is a reference to The Stunti-Con Job. There are a whole bunch of nerdy references in the Magnus's artefact room. The Animated Wreckers being dead is mentioned in AllSpark Almanac II.

As a general overview of how coupling works in this universe, females are typically set up with two ports meant for coupling, one smaller than the other, located in the pelvic region, with the smaller one behind the larger. There is a probe mount in the front, where a probe can be attached. Males tend to have only one port but are equipped from creation with a probe, so they do not have to go out and buy a probe, though they usually do anyway, to get a good selection of sizes and styles. The probe mount itself is very sensitive and can be stimulated to a climax, but it tends to get sore after the climax if over-stimulated. Likewise, if a probe is attached to the probe mount, the probe can become sore and over-stimulated after climax. A probe is designed to be relatively easy to work to a climax, but it has a built-in refractory period to prevent someone blowing out some circuits from over-stimulation and causing internal damage. A port is generally somewhat more difficult to work to a climax, due to differences in wiring, but can safely handle multiple climaxes with no refractory period. It is entirely possible for a Transformer to have a non-standard layout of coupling components. For example, a Transformer identifying as a male might have two ports, or he might even have three coupling ports, one of them in his shoulder, or only accessible in vehicle mode! A female-identifying Transformers could have _five_ probes and no ports at all. There is generally no real stigma against non-standard layouts, but most Transformers just do not feel like putting in the effort to try an experimental design. A factory seal does not necessarily imply virginity, as it might just imply, 'this Transformer had his/her legs shot off, and the whole region has been replaced with new parts'. There is nothing analogous to breasts in this universe; they are not mammals in this fic.

The terms probe and port are borrowed from how aircraft refuel, actually, because it is amusingly suggestive to watch aircraft refuelling, but the terms probe and port are not used in the refuelling sense here and are really just fantasy nonsense terms at this point.

Using a link cable to feel what one's partner is feeling during coupling is a little extra that Transformers in this universe sometimes use. Depending on what they are trying to do, they can tap different sensory feeds.

Dentata are a pretty standard rape deterrent, though they are more common in MilSpec bodies than CivSpec bodies. Pretty much every Autobot who is expected to be put directly in harm's way has one installed, and most do not bother getting them taken out if are reassigned to a less dangerous position. (Pretty much every Decepticon, period, has one, even the accountants.) Optimus, who was just a space bridge maintenance technician, was not expected to be put directly in harm's way (ho ho ho), so he did not have a dentata, but now that it is clear that Optimus runs around doing crazy hero stuff all the time, Optimus has a dentata.

As a caveat, Optimus and Sentinel's relationship here is screwed up and unhealthy. _If_ they discuss things in a grown-up fashion and work at it, they might someday have a healthier relationship.

If I write any sequels to this, both Optimus Prime and Bumblebee are staying women, because this amuses me.


End file.
